The pages had to reload. They timed out. I went to link the song and the theme of this day. I got the following message:

An error occurred. Please try again later.

And maybe it had a bit. Maybe it was a sign to return to it later. Or maybe it was just a coincidence.

We have plans for this weekend that were made in advance. They may not happen. It may be another day of quiet… or it could be another day with a phone call at an early hour… because you want to tell me how you feel.

Fridays aren’t the only days one can fall in love. Because when you arrived…

Because when you disappeared.

Because when you reappeared.

Because…

Because…

Because…

An error occurred. Please try again later.

And I’m sorry. I know I’m part of the reason that did.

Well… fuck you too damnit. I wish later were now… but the best things come with a fight… and sometimes it takes a couple before we finally get it right.

I knew immediately when I saw him that I had to make him mine- if only for a moment. We were both doomed. I just didn’t know how much at the time.

Little did I know just how much the wind was going to be knocked out of me that first time we saw eachother… and to think it almost didn’t happen.

It had been a long day at work. I was exhausted and just wanted to go home and go straight to bed. Some Friday night huh?

He and I had chatted in textboxes previously. He claimed he had never met anyone online before but the “friend” connection we shared seemed to calm him down a bit.

“Let’s see where this goes.” He’d later tell me would be the reason he went through with it.

Before our introduction there had been a few flags of caution. Politically we were very different people. And then there was one major break: despite mutually knowing a fellow artist, he abhorred art. Those two degrees of diametrical separation are arguably enough to make people run from eachother. But hey who listens to signs anyway?

I got there late. He was to meet me at one of my favorite historical cocktail bars downtown- Coles.

I took a deep breath as I walked up to the door.

“Haven’t seen my friend in awhile have you Wally?” I smiled to the doorman.

“Nope.” He smiled back.

“Wish me luck. I’m off to meet his potential replacement.”

Wally laughed and opened the door.

“You have a good night tonight.”

“Always.” I said with a wink.

And then time slowed down a bit… as it tends to in moments that…

Sitting at the bar was the man from the picture- clad in a black velvet blazer, dress shirt and tie. He was even better looking in person… and holy hell that was a feat in it of itself.

I can see a blanket of lights out of the passenger in front of me’s window. This flight isn’t full. Would it have been so bad to assign me a different seat that actually had a window?

Four dresses rest in a rolled suitcase nestled below the plane. They weren’t supposed to be. But this plane also has the smallest carry on stow-aways I have seen yet.

I decided to pack light. My bra is stuffed with money. My credit card and id are in my pocket. I really hope they don’t lose my luggage. Please don’t let there be yet one more annoyance to deal with.

I sit in the quiet wash and wonder if this was the best decision. Maybe dad’s plan to guilt me succeeded. I felt bad before I even got on the plane.

Meanwhile a few hundred miles away, a handsome suited gent is eagerly awaiting my arrival at one of the most posh and up and coming hotels on the strip. I know that he’s hoping this will be a weekend where we fall in love. I fear he may already be dangerously close to it.

I’ve been so guarded with my heart that I have forgotten what it’s like to have someone that gives a shit like that. I’m so used to being the one who does.

Meanwhile a few hundred miles away, a handsome suited gent- my boyfriend, eagerly awaits my arrival. He says this is the first of many trips he hopes to take with me. That he wants me to be able to take care of things with my family. That he wants a family. That he adores me.

I know he’s hoping this will be a weekend where we fall in love. I fear he may be dangerously close to it.

I feel the drop of the plane. We are getting close already. I remember the last time I was on a plane to meet a gentleman. Of the build up and the anticipation. Of everything in between. Perhaps waiting would have been better. Was this the right decision? Will this be the make or break for us? I just posted the facebook status change- something I hadn’t done with anyone else since I got onto the site years ago.

I’m thinking about my biggest fan. I’m thinking about the bartender. I’m thinking about my first love. I’m thinking about the last lover I had before I left Illinois the first time. I’m thinking about the rockabilly geek from a couple of summers ago. I’m thinking about the suited gent from the past holiday. I’m thinking about…

He’d cooked dinner for me. A conversation about things done and things not done had been discussed prior to this evening.

“This is also going to be one of the first holidays I’m not spending with the family.”

“I’m sorry to disappoint. How’s the polenta?”

“It’s delicious. It’s not that it’s just..”

“It’s what? Look I’m having a great time tonight. We’re going to have a great time later too. This will be fun just calm down. Look I bought something you might like.”

He pulled some whiskey stones out of the freezer and put them in a glass for me.

I smiled. Little things always seem to make me smile more than even the biggest ones do.

“Well it looks like you might have actually survived my cooking.”

“It’s too soon to tell.”

“You’re right. Now come on, let’s get to the roof.”

It was crowded up there. Lots of yuppie new money kids sipping cocktails. It was straight out of an episode of Miami Vice but downtown Los Angeles.

We sat down. The fireworks started to go off. He kissed me and smiled.

“Now we’ve both checked that off the list. How are you doing?”

“Good. This whole evening was good. Thanks so much…sincerely.”

For years I’d imagined this moment kissing the person I was with while fireworks blew off at the top of the world in the big city. It should have been perfect… should have been. But it wasn’t. He wasn’t who I wanted it to be with.

He told me he’d just moved to Los Angeles but I didn’t think he was serious.

“I moved up here in March.”

“That was only a few weeks ago.”

“I wasn’t kidding.”

He’d told me about the move up here. I should have run immediately. It got worse. I listened to the tales that lead him to relocate up to Los Angeles. Of heartache and pain and… hardship but you’d never know it by looking at him. I suppose we shared a few things in common. With others, we couldn’t be more different.

“This place is gorgeous.”

“It’s a historical landmark. Here’s a picture of it…”

Swing metal robins egg blue doors greeted us as we got to his floor. I had never seen an elevator like his in anything outside of a movie.

Inside it was a combination of white and earth tones. The furnishings sent the message that he had tastes of a higher but grounded simplistic caliber. There were only a couple of things on the wall. His apartment inside was massive. And while it was beautiful, something felt missing.

“I got rid of all of the decorations and things when I left San Diego. It was too hard on me. I’d collected all of that when I was with my wife. We’d picked it out together. I couldn’t have it here. I wanted a true opportunity to start over.”

His tale continued to get worse. It’s funny how the little things around us tell so much about us… even the missing things.

“After things were bad with my wife I ended up dating her best friend.”

“How long has that been over?”

“I left San Diego and got here March 1st. I haven’t talked to her since I left.”

“I’m not looking to be your rebound here.”

“You’re not. If anything she was.”

Somehow the conversation changed back to his apartment.

“Why here?”

“Because the agency wanted to open offices here. And I thought the move would be cathartic.”

“How do you like LA? How long do you think you’ll be here? This doesn’t seem like the right part of town for someone like you.”

“Funny I was kind of thinking the same thing. That’s why I have such a short lease. It’s only six months.”

I thought about my apartments here. How for the longest time when I got here I hadn’t unpacked the boxes in a silent rivalry with being here. I thought about how much stuff I’d kept since the divorce. About how much had been purged. About how much probably still needed to be purged.

It’s funny how the little things around us tell so much about us… the missing things and perhaps some of the stuff that should be missing… if you have the courage to let go.

“Can you just cuddle?” it said in an unidentified text message from an area code I didn’t recognize either.

“Who is this?” I texted back.

“Guess?”

I milled it over in my head. It’s been a strange week.

A strange month.

A strange.. everything.

But that’s what happens when you’re self evaluating. And while my brain was sifting through the memories trying to make sense of everything, this made even less sense. Who was this? I was both flattered and… annoyed.

“The truth is I know who I want this to be but you’re probably not said person.”

“Who?”

I was honest but I wasn’t going to be that honest. The unidentified stranger didn’t need to know who was on my mind. Hell- as I typed it I felt guilty. By all accounts, the person or persons I was referring to wasn’t anyone I probably should be wanting to text me asking for that. I knew better. Or I’d hoped I did.

An hour later I received a text with the answer. It was Mr. Midnight– a “Hemmingway” of a punk rock lover from my past circa a couple of summers ago. I didn’t respond.

“Is that bad?”

A pin dropped. I didn’t know what to say to that. It had been so long ago that it felt like another lifetime.

I posted to Facebook about it and referenced a few friends that remember some of those memories. I should have seen this one coming. A few weeks prior he had added me on Facebook again- albeit briefly. He deleted me a few days later after I asked him what brought him to reach out to me. It was about events that never happened.

This was going to be an interesting first introduction. He’d had a meeting with Australian clients so wasn’t able to make the tasting. I had not formally invited him to the meeting of this month’s Whiskey Society but thought it might be a good place to say hello regardless.

I found myself apologizing for the strange introduction. It was his first time meeting someone from online. He was newly divorced and single. Fresh to Los Angeles. Extremely. He had moved up here March 1st.

At the back of my mind I feared impending disaster. I had nearly cancelled this introduction- or postponed at least until the next day- to allow for a certain programmer to have the evening. Maybe that was jinxing it from the beginning. I’ll never know. But worrying about it wouldn’t do me any good either.

The conversation was going well. He was adorable. Much more my speed than the programmer had been. The conversation was fluid and not forced.

I got a call while we were sitting there talking about our exes. Another doomed conversation perhaps. It was my ex calling to apologize- at midnight- that he wouldn’t be able to hang out and wishing me a good time at my tasting.

“You know, if you’d be open to it. I’d love to re-meet you tomorrow on a sober note.”

“That’d work.”

We were having a good time. He went to bring me home.

The conversation continued to pour on. Quip after quip after…

“I know a place that has food that’s open now!”

“Where?”

I texted my friend to get the exact name. I’d been there frequently but couldn’t remember where exactly it was since I hadn’t needed to drive in months.

The night pressed on. It was fantastic. The first one of it’s kind that I’d had since the second goodbye.

“I’m not looking to rush into anything right now. My last ex wanted to marry me. And then, well… things were… All I want to do is live moment to moment and see where it takes me.”

“Me too.”

Tango with words. It begins this moment. But for how many neither of us could be sure.

I was about to head out to an event with a gal pal. I had had a mishap when attempting to lighten my hair earlier this week and wasn’t sure how I felt about the in between. His hat assisted wonderfully. It was for this reason that I was really hoping to dodge him… at least for the time being so I could not have to worry about giving the hat back.

Throughout the night he would continue to text. I would continue to respond.

“You’re only feeding a troll.”

He called while we were on the smoking porch.

“How do you know [so and so]?”

“She’s a friend. I met her at [redacted]. Why do you ask?”

The call dropped again. It was too loud out there anyway.

“Call me when you can talk. I miss you.”

“He misses me.” I told the friends.

They rolled their eyes.

“Of course he does. Let him.”

I put the phone in my jacket pocket and walked away. On the outside, I probably looked strong. After all that he’d done, I shouldn’t be talking to him again. He’d already done this twice. I should have known that he’d be back yet again.

I couldn’t think about it anymore. I jumped back on the dance floor with your hat.

You say I never danced with you… but that night, even if you weren’t there… we did.

It was a gorgeous but strange night. I’m not sure how we ended up there exactly. We just sort of… did.

“Why are we in the Valley again?” I asked him on the way here.

“Shit I missed the exit and did it again. Um… where do you want to eat? What kind of food do you want to eat?”

“You had one thing to do today. Just one. It was to pick a restaurant.”

“I know. I fail.”

“Every single date it’s been fail.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“At least you’re consistent.”

We laughed. It’s been so much fun with him. I never know what to expect. Everything just flows. This was just comical and borderline routine. Or, as routine as you can get for having so few of dates as we had thusfar.

“Sushi maybe?”

“That’d work.”

Of course, that’s not where we were obviously. He turned around and headed back towards Hollywood.

“Today is probably the worst day for fish. It’s not going to be fresh. We should get something else. Let’s just drive until we find something that we want. Or we could go to Animal if it’s not crowded.”

It was crowded.

“Well ain’t that some shit.” he said as we headed back to the car.

We got to Fairfax and I was hopeful and a bit disoriented. It seemed like we had been doing a tour of the city at this point.

“Oh we could go to Father’s!”

“We’re not that far. But oh… there’s a place we can go to in the Grove. Is that ok? Let’s just do that.”

And so we ended up here in front of the fountain in the illustrious and exquisite outdoor mall extravaganza. But not before he got himself a new fancy espresso machine.

“This is the weirdest date ever. They are all the weirdest dates ever with this one.” I texted a friend.

“Sorry about this. I’m sure you have to be bored.” he said mid purchase.

“It’s fine. We could have played it off a bit better though. Pretended we were married again and buying this for our mansion in the hills or something.”

“Yes after our engagement at McDonalds.”

I got trout and he got mussels. His fancy espresso machine was tucked next to me. He sat across from me and grazed on cheeses with honeycomb.

“Here’s your escargot.”

“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to.” he told me.

And I thought for a half second about the last suited gent and how he would probably have turned even a slight hesitation with food into a moment of contention.

“My mother told me when I was younger that you should always try food once, and if you don’t like it, you at least have it that you had the guts to try it. That said I’m picky about food but sometimes I enjoy the adventure. Like foie gras. Delectable!”

“That’s what I thought too the first time I had it. You know in Paris it’s not that big of a deal either. Might as well just go into the garden and get the snails and douse them in garlic and butter.”

Oh Paris.

I looked up from our dinner to see a couple being disgustingly romantic. Ever so sweet kisses in front of the Grecian fountain paired with a whimsical billowing dress and a gent that could have been out of a movie too.

“We wouldn’t be like that.” I said as I motioned to them. He looked over.

“Well not with you dressed like that. We look like a couple of hipsters right now.”

“I do not.” he said as he wiped a crumb off his sweater and adjusted his glasses.

“Ok so maybe a little.”

And we ended up talking about Paris a bit more.

“You know being in Paris alone is kind of the worst thing ever.”

He was telling me about his trip after his divorce. About how he’d be going back for Cannes.

I was envious.

I still am.

I don’t even own a passport…

yet.

I’m dreadfully afraid of the gravity of travel. I fear it would take me away.

And for a few moments as we sat and looked at that couple we were in Paris. But maybe we were both alone.

He didn’t need to outright tell me that the wound still hadn’t quite healed. I couldn’t think about that right now. That was a different moment. It was one that didn’t belong to me.